Possessive Corruptions
by after.a.hard.day
Summary: YBakuraAnzuTea One-Shots. Because he is too cruel to let her go and she's too afraid to push him away.
1. I laugh

**title: **I Laugh  
**pairing:**Anzu x Yami Bakura  
**summary:** Perhaps you don't know what loneliness is, I mean, you have always been alone, so you don't know what _not_ being alone is to miss it, to feel the burn. But I do. Oh I do. I laugh at it.  
**rating:** M (as always)  
**notes:**Poor Anzu, thats what happens when you fall in love with dark men. -sigh-  
**standard disclaimer applies.**

**--**

Perhaps you don't know what loneliness is, I mean, you have always been alone, so you don't know what _not_ being alone is to miss it, to feel the burn. But I do. Oh I do. I laugh at it.

I know how you left me, left me alone in the dark, I have had three of your children. I should say no to you, push you away from whence you came, but just a few of your hot kisses and I forget all the resolutions I made in the hospitale when I held your daughter. I think its cruel, really, they all look like you, white hair and brown eyes. They're all I have left of you though. Sometimes I really wonder where you get off though, how can you treat a woman like that? You said you would stay, but you didn't, did you? Your eldest daughter is asking now. Where's Daddy? Where's Daddy gone? God I die every time I see there face when I answer I don't know. Your children are bastards, just like you. Funny isn't it? Ha ha ha ha ha.

I laugh. Because I have to. And you, Bakura. Thief King. Stealer of my good for nothing heart. Father to my children. I laugh at you, because I have to, it's the only way I can _stand_ you.

I remember the first time I talked to you, when you got your own body back. Actually when I first saw you. My throat closed up and my hands became sweaty and I felt a prickle of fear in my armpits. But when I talked to you, I saw you were lonely. Hey, I would be lonely too if I was you, getting thrown into the world that technically says you don't exist. (I always wondered what ever happens when you get caught, they cant charge someone that doesn't exist can they?) But I digress, when I saw you, with nothing but Ryou for company I felt for you, so I became your friend.

But you used me, you thief. Used my heart for your own, I don't mind that you did, you needed something to stand on, and I was a more than willing block, I accommodated your every whim and need. And you dug yourself a hole in my heart that you crawl back to when it gets too much. You can pretend that you're all right then, when you're with me, you have something again, and you don't feel useless. But each time you leave me, I hate you just a little more and want you a little more.

But tomorrow I have decided, when you leave my arms again, because you are in them right now, you head on my stomach, I will leave you, because I will not keep doing this too myself again, to your children. Do you know how messed up they when you reappear on my door step? They think you will stay this time.

So my thief, this is the end, you will not see me again. I am going, I, Anzu, am leaving you permanently, I have already bought a new house. In a city that's… far away. Actually a different country all together. And I'll be laughing at you, laughing because I don't want my children to see me crying.

--

afterahardday


	2. Bad Influence

**title: **Bad Influence  
**pairing:**Anzu x Yami Bakura  
**summary:** It was all she could say, and it was a battle to say that, but she felt some how stronger for doing it, like she hadn't given over totally. Yet.  
**rating:** M  
**notes: **Mischievous Bakura and Anzu and piles of laundry, what more could you want?  
**standard disclaimer applies.**

_--_

She sighed and threw the black boxers into the washing basket, absently reading what they said, rolling her eyes. 'Macho man'. God Bakura was weird sometimes… _especially_ with his clothing…

Anzu sighed again thinking about last night, the way he had rubbed against her, his hands around her stomach as they stumbled back to her apartment. she was completely drunk, and Bakura was just a little tipsy (as far as he would admite however). She stopped her cleaning to think about it, his hands and the way he had kissed her and touched her and… she could almost feel it now.

Wait no, those hands were _real_. And so was that mouth as it kissed down her neck.

"Morning love" a raspy voice said in her ear. All she could do was make some sort of whimper in reply. He chuckled, and it sent shivers down her spine. The hand that gripped the basket was white as she tried everything to keep her knees from buckling, because she was getting dangerously close to collapsing. "So I take it that you're glad to see me?"

"Yes." It was all she could say, and it was a battle to say that, but she felt some how stronger for doing it, like she hadn't given over totally. Yet.

"Well that's good." Gently he took the basket out of her hand, discarding it somewhere onto the floor. She couldn't restrain herself, she sighed, she had a feeling that she was going to be doing more dirty washing.

Bakura had just come out of the rain, it was absolutely pouring outside. All his clothes were wet, and they were steadily soaking hers as well.

"I thought you had gone home?" she said, pulling away from his grasp to continue her cleaning. She picked up her basket and went on her way, throwing in her shirt from last night.

"Well, I figured I had to come back to pick up my clothes that I left here."

"Mmm, well you're going to have to wait longer before they come out of the wash." She stuffed his jeans into the basket.

"Fine by me." He crossed his arms and cocked and eyebrow at her.

"In that case, can you go drip in the kitchen? It's easier to mop up." If he thought he could just sneak up on her like that and then kiss her like it was no bodies business, he had another thing coming. "God my back hurts." She stretched her back out, arching backwards, chest thrusting forwards, she let out a low moan from the back of her throat. Then lent forwards, feeling all her vertebrae click into place.

She straightened out and saw to her delight that Bakura had gone stiff, his eyes just watching her as she lengthened her self out like a cat. _Now for the icing on the cake…_Leaning over the bed she went to grab something, making that in the process Bakura could see right down her shirt. She heard him growl somewhere down the back of his throat, trying to restrain himself in their unspoken battle of wills, and she had a feeling that she was winning. She positioned the basket on her hip so that it made her sway a little as she walked, reaching him she whispered in his ear softly, "Kitchen, now" He looked at her confused. Kitchen? What Kitchen? Why now?! She turned to him from the door. "You are dripping water everywhere!" she smirked and walked out. He growled again, saucy little minx.

He went out of the room as well; she wasn't getting away from him now. He came up behind her and grasped his arms around her waist. She let out a loud moan as he bit down on her neck. Her basket dropping as her back arched. Swiftly turning her, he crashed her mouth onto hers.

"You do not get away from me that easily…" his voice was vicious with the heat in his body. "Never that easily…" His hands went to the hem of her shirt. Gently going underneath and sliding up her sides. He once again threw the basket out of her hands and kicked it away, just to make sure. Then he kissed her again, walking her backwards on to her bed and then they both went tumbling backwards.

"You are such a bad influence, do you know that?" she muttered as he looked over her.

"You love it."

"Too bad if I didn't, right?"

"Right."

--

afterahardday


	3. Willingly

**title: **Willingly  
**pairing:** Anzu x Yami Bakura  
**summary:** "It is want, stronger want… it's what some call love, others greed, it is everything, but above all _desire_."  
**rating:** M (as always)  
**notes:** Its the most in character Bakura I've ever written. For reference, as someone made this mistake previously. Anzu isn't directly implying that Yuugi, Jou, Honda and all the rest use her, but its more playing on her wants that she feels. Because Bakura's a manipulator, and the little bit of every person that resents self sacrifice is what he is playing upon.  
**standard disclaimer applies**

**--**

Anzu stood firmly looking down at him. Her eyes were wide with what she had just done, both in triumph and fear of his reaction. Her hand still raised from where she had slapped him. Bakura was holding his face, her angry finger prints burning on his pale cheek. He turned back slowly to her, a dark glint in his eye. Anzu lowered her hand and gulped, all senses telling her to run, but the look in his eye making her stay… that and combined with the warm feeling in her stomach that was uncurling like a snake.

"You deserved that Bakura! Don't you ever, _ever,_ say that about me again!" she raised her hand again to slap him, but he caught her this time, his long fingers catching her small wrist in a death grip.

Bakura always had a good sense of smell. Everything stayed in his memory… The smell of a unopened tomb, blood, metal, skin, different perfumes, the royal gardens, foods, meat cooking, meat raw. He also knew the different smells of people… they always smelt different… blood… flesh, sweat, especially scared humans, like Anzu now. She smelt different though… like jasmine in the night mixed with a fruit, blended onto her tangy human scent as well as alcohol. He lifted her wrist to her nose and took a deep breath. She jerked in his grip, but could not pull away; he took it all in, storing it under things to be remembered on a better day when he was close to dieing finally and could afford to dwell on the sweet smell of women.

"Let go of me!" she snapped.

"No." he took her wrist away from his face and lent closer, smelling all of her. She squirmed, he released he must be scaring her, but he didn't care, had he ever?

"You sick bastard!" she yelled, but he just for the moment ignored her, his hand went around her waist, bringing her close, the rough silk of her formal dress sliding against his hand, she squirmed a bit more, but his grip was unbreakable. He put his hand to her neck and traced it up, along her jaw, over her lips, so small and full. He leant forward, brushing a kiss over them like dust, they were soft, covered in lipstick. He frowned, that some how ruined it… she was so covered up… under all that modern _makeup_, as Ryou called it.

He noticed how very still she had gone in his arms, watching him. He smirked… perhaps she was not as resisting to him as she would like to believe of herself. Carefully he raised a hand to her lips again, then wiped off with a thumb the red stain on her lips, it was just now on his thumb, though it did annoy him how some of it was still left over. But he watched as her pink tongue darted forward, wiping the remaining lipstick off.

"Bakura, are you going to kiss me properly?" she whispered, her fear of him gone. He looked up to her eyes quickly. Why did she have to do something as annoying as speaking...? It ruined his illusion.

"Wanting me now? My, how things _change_… I don't think I should… since you hit me…" he grabbed one of her stiff arms, and bent it so that her fingers were over the place that she had hit him.

"Then kindly let me go!" she snapped, however she did not remove her hand off his face.

"Why? When I know you are just as angry at the world as I. You ran away from your fancy party because you were angry. You are no more content than I am, so stop pretending, you liar."

"Let me go!" she began squirming again. Her nails digging into his cheek.

"When are you going to learn that does nothing?" he snapped, but she didn't stop. So to make her cease her annoying movement, he picked a particular point on her side and jabbed. Instantly she stood ramrod straight, her face flushing.

"That was low."

"I am low." He smirked as she growled. "But you are too, that is why when I kiss you, your not going to fight me, not now not ever."

"You don't know that." Anzu breathed out quietly as his face came closer to her. "Oh you don't know that!" she removed her hand from his face and shoved him back, turning away from him, she wrapped her hands around her elbows… wanting desperately to get away. "I don't want to be low… I don't want to be like you!" she wailed, shivering in the cold.

"Anzu…" he whispered, not letting her go for too long. He wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning his chin on her shoulder. She could hear his breath; it sent shivers down her spine.

"Bakura… stop it… I don't want to be like you… I don't want to be hated and used and abandoned." She whimpered.

"You already are… you already are… cant you see it? They use your smile, your happiness, and your words. They never say thank-you. They never give them back… take something for yourself." He told her, her will was weakening, he could tell.

"If I was… wha –what should I take?" she turned her head slightly to face him.

"Take whatever you want. The world is yours… take it." His words instilled into her a fierce passion; it started in her stomach and sprawled out, like a ship unfurling its sails to a strong north wind. Without warning, she turned in his embrace and kissed Bakura, though, he knew she was going to, his arms clutched tight around her waist, her delicate silk dress becoming crushed in his hands. She pulled away, her breath short, shoulders trembling like a child who has been crying.

"What am I feeling Bakura? What is it? I haven't ever felt it before" she was frightened of herself, he almost had to laugh at her.

"It is want, stronger want… it's what some call love, others greed, it is everything, but above all _desire_." Desire and Bakura were old friends, having kept each other company on many cold nights with only ale to wet their throats. But though many knew it, desire was always kept hidden, like a mistress of a married man. Hushed into dark corners till the last moment when all is revealed in bright glory.

"Teach me about desire Bakura…" she linked her arms around his neck, pressing her body harder against him, all of her soul shaking for his touch.

"Willingly, oh so willingly…"

--

afterahardday


	4. Baking

**title: **Baking  
**pairing:** Anzu x Yami Bakura  
**summary:** Because biscuits always need some extra sugar  
**rating:** M (as always)  
**notes:** This is silly and ridiculious and sweet, not much else to be said.  
**standard disclaimer applies**

**--**

Anzu poured the wet mixture into the dry mixture. Taking the wooden spoon she began to mix it around and around, till it formed dough. Grinning to herself she poured grabbed a handful of it and began to shape it.

"What are you doing?" a dark voice drawled from the other side of the kitchen. Anzu turned her head, but didn't really look, already knowing who it was.

"Baking." She said simply. "Come help me."

"You know I don't _help_." He sneered.

Looking up she smiled, her hands covered in flour and sticky dough she went over to him, her arms went around his neck and she nuzzled against his shoulder. "Please help me" her voice lowered and she whispered in his ear, "I'll make it worth your while."

"Why should I wait? I married you for a _reason_ you know..."

She pushed away from him, smiling devilishly, though her hands slid just a little, having no grip from the oils of cooking. "Oh, here I was thinking you did it because I was _such_ good company." Leaning closer, she kissed the crook of his neck where her fingers had been, it tasted sweet but at the same time had the saltiness of his skin. Bakura growled and pulled her closer, causing her to giggle.

"You are a devil woman..." It was simply not fair that she could control him so easily.

"Then the devil issues you a command." She gently bit his ear lobe. "Help me bake..."

Bakura growled again. Anzu pulled away from him, sauntering to the bench top, throwing him wink over her shoulder. "Do we have an accord?" she grinned widely, her teeth flashing.

He said nothing, just grumbled, but nonetheless went over too her. "So what do I have to do?"

Anzu smiled, eating a bit of dough. "Tell me is it sweet enough?" she scrunched up a bit of dough and held it between her fingers for him. He took to from her, putting it in his mouth he shrugged.

"No, not quiet as sweet as I would like..."

Anzu frowned. "It has two cups of sugar in it. How sweet do you–" He cut her off with a kiss. It was simple at first, but he wanted more and Anzu was all to ready to give it to him. She put her arms around him, one hand going into his hair, the other coming around his shoulders. He pulled her tight against him. When they broke apart, they were crashed against the Fridge.

"That's how sweet I want it." Bakura purred into her ear.

A puzzled look came over Anzu's face. "Wait... I think I misheard you... Was it two extra cups of sugar or three?" They grinned at each other. Bakura's grin turned to a smirk. He leant and kissed the hollow of her neck, biting it slightly, enjoying how Anzu shivered.

"One." He said softly. Then a bit higher, just on her jaw. "Two." Then, moving higher again he kissed the corner of her mouth. Anzu shivered again, almost making him smile. Almost. "Three Cups." He caught her lips again, bringing a hungry moan out of her. For along while they stayed like that, all cooking forgotten.

When they both ran out of air, Anzu pulled away, her lips bruised but smiling.

"I think I can make it that sweet." She giggled, continuing to roll the dough. He put his hands around her waist, watching her work over her shoulder, occasionally getting bits of he dough from Anzu's fingers.

"I knew there was a reason I married you..."

"Well its obviously not for my company... well at least not of the normal sort." She could feel his smirk against her neck. "So, why, pray tell, did you marry me?"

"Because, your sexy, ever _so_ compliant, with the _right_ persuasion, _of course_." He chuckled, the deep sound reverberating from his chest to her back. "And you don't need to be told twice... you understand. And occasionally, ever so occasionally, you have good conversation."

"Thank-you," she said quietly, almost to the point where he didn't hear it.

"You're welcome."

"No, really, thank-you, that's the first time you have said something nice about me apart from my looks... and, ah, other things I can do." She giggled, but the look on her face was sincere. Bakura smiled, not his normal smirk, or grin of lust. But a honest grin. It made her feel warm inside.

Kissing him again, she continued working. Bakura grumbled.

"What is it now?"

"I want you to hurry up."

"Why?"

"I want to put your other talents to work." He smirked. Anzu laughed shaking her head.

--

afterahardday


	5. Pandora's Box: Small, Black and Simple

**title: **Pandora's Box; Small, Black and Simple.  
**pairing:** Anzu x Yami Bakura  
**summary:** Peoples greatest faults where the ones they thought they were safe to expose. This was just the beginning.  
**rating:** M  
**notes:** I wrote this as a present as a friend, Kelpy. Her request of was "Pandora's Box" .  
**standard disclaimer applies**

-

Small, black and simple, it screamed at him. Told him everything he needed to know, so totally innocent. Black was the colour of chaos, but chaos itself was innocent in its purposes, it was only because people used it for dark purpose that it became a source of evil. Fair enough, chaos had been used for evil, but that's simply because it wanted to have what it wanted before _everything_, to be everything, cover everything.

But it was not to be. Chaos wasn't allowed it to be as free as it wanted. He shook his hair angrily. All these in-depth thoughts were merely evasions to the reality of the little black book sitting in front of him. He hadn't meant to find it; verily he had just seen Mazaki writing in it. Innocently biting the tip of her pen, then after carefully checking that no one was looking, scribbled down things within its black bound pages. By the way she wrote he could tell it wasn't a work book. The place she had chosen to work in had revealed her activities. It was the Library, every other student had books apart from there note book sprawled out around them. _History, Math, Science_. Whatever they were working on, it was about them, giving a hint. But she had a desk to herself, little black book directly under her hands, the size of a folded A4 page and that was it. Tiny really, but yet as he stared at it, he knew it was not size that mattered. Secretly he hopped it was that thing he heard females in this time were prone to keeping, he hoped it was a diary.

He thought vaguely of everything else that he had seen, or heard of, that could be as dangerous as Anzu Mazaki's personal thoughts. He grinned, the chest of the millennium items, not small certainly, but powerful undoubtedly. Mythical… he decided, it was mythical, like the Pandora's Box. Perhaps this would be the Pandora Box of Anzu, perhaps he would see all her inner demons, but shut the lid before that ever persistent, ever annoying, _hope_, appeared. Rubbing his forefingers against his thumb in a bid to calm his apprehensive but quick mind, his hand hovered of the black book he had picked up that she, twit of a girl, had dropped. Grasping the cover, he flicked the first page and was dismayed. Instead of straight words, there were symbols, lines and lines of symbols, mixed intermittently with some words that hinted at different things. There only words that made sense was the title which made him groan at his own stupidity.

'_Dance Routines'_

It would make sense that she would find a way of ordering something as free as dance into something as complicated as these symbols.

The format was quiet simple. It would display what he presumed was the song title and artist, followed by the code of moves.

Into The Night – Santana feat. Chad Kroeger. 

_Triangle. Circle. __Inverted triangle. Double spin. Star…_

And so on, lines just going of the stuff, he flicked through the pages, only a few were filled, but enough to show she had been working in it for awhile. Absently he read through the list of songs, fair enough he had no idea what the songs would sound like, but perhaps the titles… He wasn't an idiot, he could find out all sorts of things from just music that a person in question listened to. Music was far more diverse in this day and age, you could divulge a lot from just simple things like titles.

_Walkie Talkie Man – Steriogram _(What the hell was that kind of song...?)

_Shut Me Up – Mindless Self Indulgence_ (Hmmm. Interesting band…)

_Ooh La La – Goldfrapp_ (Now what in the world was that?)

_Lips Like Morphine – Kill Hannah_ (Did she have them, or did she need them?)

_Holding Out For A Hero – Jennifer Saunders _(Well, he already knew she was desperate…)

_Egyptian Lover – It's Automatic _(Now that was just too good…)

_Feel Good Inc. – Gorillaz_ (that sounded possibly like something)

_E Luxo So – Rossa Passos _(Well, no hope of knowing that song…)

_Why Do You Love Me? – Garbage _(Even more interesting…)

_The Night That Never End – The Cat Empire_ (Hmmmm. What could she mean by that song?)

He scanned through the list, writing down songs that sounded interesting, something that would give him an insight to her mind and perhaps somehow, _somehow,_ he could use against her. Perhaps if he could find a way of exposing some darker side of her… he had tried the others, but they were men, she was a woman, all the more complicated for her gender and because of those complications, even more vulnerable. The things he could do with her, to her, imply about her, with just the right piece of information.

But even fools had to start somewhere, and this was somewhere. And in the modern world where personal taste was common, he could find out a lot. Peoples greatest faults where the ones they thought they were safe to expose. This was just the beginning.

Pocketing the paper he had written down the songs on, he rose up off to find out from his lighter half how the 'internet' worked.

--

Anzu was almost afraid when she realized that her black book of choreography was gone. It was her private book that she wrote down only her best ideas down in. She looked through her bag, all around the house, thinking maybe she had left it somewhere, dreading if one of her brothers found it. It was no where at all and just when she about to really freak out, she heard a knock out the door. It was insistent, so coming out of her fit she went to the door, opened it, there was no one around, no matter how hard she stared into the darkness. About to give up, she looked at her feet, and there on the welcome mat was her book, untouched and highlighted in false shine in the moonlight with a strip of white.

Sighing with relief and wondering if who had left it was still around, Anzu called out. "Thank-you! …whoever you are…"

She closed the door and held it close. Thanking whatever gods (because she had become quiet ambiguous with them) for its return. Flicking through the pages she stopped on one that had rather messily a messaged scrawled diagonally across it.

'All debts have to be repaid at some point. From an anonymous friend'

--

'_Don't thank me yet… you have nothing to thankful for, nothing at all.'_

--

He sat at his lighter half's desk pouring over a website known as YouTube. It was some sort of obscure blessing, even if he did have to ask for help to find out about it. Thank the gods Ryou was not a stupid boy that asked questions.

So he plowed through the song lists, waiting to find out what each song would give away something darker away from Anzu Mazaki's perfect demeanor. A few had been promising, but now he reached the last song on the list and smiled, this was the one that showed the _most_ promise.

Then he reached the last song. A malicious grin spread over his face.

_It was perfect. _

--

Anzu retied her hair and looked around the empty studio. The bar stretched against the mirror, and her singular reflection in all those mirrors. She felt so alone.

And it felt so good.

Setting down her CD player she put on her song, her black book next to it. To the first song, she began to stretch her body twisting and turning as she leaped around the area. There was no difference to her or the music, she moved as it did.

She lost herself to it.

When it stopped, she was panting a little, a soft sheen of sweet over her face. Bits of her hair hung loose, but she didn't care. Instead she flicked the 'next' button of times, listening for a certain song, whilst checking her little black book to refresh the different moves. The song she chose was repetitive in its beat but leant itself so well to what she had in mind. She began to move, demonic like the song gave the air of. Like something was gripping her at strings and manipulating her.

Eventually that song ended, she stopped in a pose, breathing heavily. It was a fast dance; she could feel the air-con hitting the back of her neck. But that wasn't that made her hair's stand on end.

It was the clapping.

With her eyes closed she couldn't see who it was, but was afraid to. She felt her breath settle down a bit more then dropped her arms and turned back around. Smirking, hand in a pocket, leaning against the wall was Yami no Bakura. It was mid morning and the light was bright, cutting clean rectangular shapes onto the ground. He was between two cuts of light, like he always had been.

"What a skilled dancer you are, Mazaki" he said, it was impossible to tell if he was mocking her or not. Her early analysis of Duel Monsters had brought her to believe that it was one part luck, two parts tactics and one part acting. Bakura was good at all of them. Acting was probably the best for him. How many times had she watched him trick Yuugi and Yami no Yuugi?

"You… you aren't normal Bakura, are you?"

"No, I suppose you could say that I am not."

"What do you want, here, with me?"

He walked out into the light, she could see him clearly now. He was smirking. "You aren't as nice, I believe, as you want everyone to think. Well, maybe you are nice, but you aren't as innocent."

"Wha – What do you mean?" she clenched her hands and swallowed the block in her throat.

"This." He walked to the CD player, but did not touch it, picking up the black book that lay quietly beside it. He held it at his eye level. "Such interesting things you dance to, Mazaki. Care to show me one… I think I deserve it to you, after all, I _did_ return it."

"It was _you_?" her brow furrowed and she stared with bewilderment in her mind. _Him_? How could it be _him_?

"Yes it was me… and I left you a note, remember?"

"… 'All debts have to be repaid at some point'…" she muttered.

"Very _good_." He talked down to her, as if she was a child. "Well Mazaki, 'some point' is now."

"I don't have to – " she began.

"What? Aren't you a good person, a nice person? All I want is to watch you dance… to a song I choose. Isn't that what will happen in the real world?"

"Ah, I, well, no – "

"You know it will. It is real world training. But apart from that, don't you just want to be nice? Isn't that what you are _known_ for?" His voice sounded so sickly sweet she wanted to run away. It was scary.

"Yes, but I don't have to be nice to a person that tried to _kill_ my friends, or send them to the shadow realm."

"Touché, but isn't that the point of being on the 'good' side, you always try to forgive and forget?"

"Yes, but only if there is hope of reform, and in ways that might do some good, this does nothing except let you watch me dance, and I _know_ there is no hope for _you_, your soul is as black as the shadows from which you say you were born."

"Why don't you just _try_, you always _try_ Mazaki."

"Ah – "

"Do it."

She had no idea why she agreed, maybe because she knew he was right, and she didn't want under any circumstance show herself as not willing to try and help someone, even though this seemed _the most_ obscure way of doing it. She sighed wearily and told him to pick song, all of the songs in the book were on the CD she had put on, in order.

Taking her position in the middle of the dance area, she waited for the beginning of the song and flushed darkly when she heard the opening beat, knowing the song immediately. Her dance was a mix of Hip-hop and vulgar dance moves she had gotten of video clips on TV. In the nicest term it was… provocative… at least if you were a man, or attracted to women. Once she started moving she couldn't see Bakura's face anymore. It was all about the dance, how her body flowed to the sound. She was an extension of the music, not just dancing to it.

Bakura watched her and was surprised at the lust she stirred within him. Her moves… she ran a hand up her leg, slid her palm across her chest, the way her shoulders and hips would roll together as they dipped to one side or another. He groaned as she slid onto her knees and did a strange movement that was like exaggerated breathing. Her hand and upper body moving in unison as she 'breathed' into time with beat.

The chorus was a bit faster and she moved accordingly, her actions more attention grabbing. Not that they weren't already. For 4 minutes and 4 seconds Bakura watched her move like she was part of the music… and what delightful music it was. He laughed to himself in his head. He definitely liked modern music.

The song ended and she stayed in her pose, breathing deeper and drawn into her like it was the only thing that mattered. The silence reigned heavy. The next so began to play, more fiery than the one that had just been playing. Anzu broke her pose and dropped her arms lightly.

"Once again, you are good, Mazaki. Not as good as you could be." He put his hand in his pocket again and walked closer, so they were a meter or so apart.

"Pray tell, in your extensive experience, what is wrong with the moves?"

"Nothing wrong with them, in fact as a man, I quiet like them." He smirked and Anzu looked at the floor, gathered herself and looked back up. "But you don't lend yourself to them properly."

"What do you mean?"

"You move like you don't know what sex is. And that song is all about sex."

"Well obviously I don't know about sex. I haven't had it have I?" she snapped. Crossing her arms and took a firmer stance, leaning to the side, completely on defense.

"I guessed as much." He came closer, much closer. Too close for Anzu.

"What are you doing?" she tried to sound angry, and mostly it worked, but she didn't like how her voice trembled at the end of her words.

"Showing you." He grabbed her waist and pulled her close. So that there hips touched. She tried to push him away, but his fingers dug into her side, painful and unbreakable, so she stopped.

"That is where you need to move from, for everything." He muttered close to ear.

She blinked then turned cynical. "How the hell do you know this?"

"Egypt was much looser with its women, not like the Greeks which have since lent its views to the modern world, the best dancers came from Egypt. I knew a fair few of them. They taught me _many_ things."

"… man-whore…" she muttered. He laughed then moved suddenly, turning her firm stance against her and put his leg between hers, twisting her pose and his so that they were tilted, but far, far closer than before. He took his hand from her waist to her forearms and pulled her upper body just as close as her lower body.

"I can understand that." He slid one hand from her forearm to her back. "Now fall back, I'll hold you." She did so, and for her own sake, she tried to do it slowly, but he slid his hand faster to just at her waist and as she putting so much weight with him, she fell faster. The effect was instant, her hips moved lower, but more firmly against him. With out asking he pulled her straight back up again, when she reached him, he was so closer, there noses were almost touchy.

Anzu's breath became shaky at his proximity. But it was not her breath that she was concentrating on, but his, hot against cheek. Looking at her stunned expression, he dipped his head to the side of her mouth and kissed it very gently, more tender than she thought was possible of him. From there he moved across and down, till he was just under her ear, so much easier to reach because she had obligingly tilted her head up. It was done without much thought on her part, mainly because the music that was still playing was messing with her head, and though she had had boyfriends before, never one as skilled as this.

"B-Baku-mmmm – ah!" She had felt his teeth graze over her skin. She kept leaning back in his grasp as he went further down. He was at the hollow of her neck now. His teeth bear once more, biting slightly. Her knees were giving out, he seemed to realize that… and she would never figure out how he did it… but they ended up on the floor, him between her legs, kissing her, properly, his mouth doing what he done before, only now she could react to him, her knees rose up, pressing her hips once more close to his, her hands gripping his shoulders, refusing to let him go.

A lot of things happened in that time, it was lucky they weren't discovered, but then, the music covered any sound… and it was six o'clock in the morning. Not many people were around to catch them, and neither of them said a single word that could break the spell to which that had fallen pray.

Somehow there clothes ended up in scattered around them, and he was inside of her, showing what the greatest dance of all humankind. She made no loud noise, just a small hitched sound that was so quiet against the raging music. He was just as quiet. There was no need for screams and loud moans. She closed her eyes, one arm dropping from his broad shoulders. Following it, her head turned to the side; he kissed down the side of her neck, biting at her skin as seemed to be his way. Hazily she opened her eyes and saw the mirrors, more what was in the mirrors. _Them_. The morning light cast a gold aurora on everything. He was above her, his back proud and strong, like that of a bull or a horse. His white mane of hair about his head, a curtain hiding his face… his skin like Ryou's, white but glowing the morning light… She below him, one leg hooked around his, the other was bent up, holding him tighter to her as the moved together, her skin was darker than his but it still glowed in the light. He came deeper into her than before and her vision was torn as her head rolled back, raising her body up to him, as though a sacrifice.

When it was done she sat up, sore as he was her first, her muscles tender. She looked down her at her bare stomach, gold in the light, glinting with sweat. Rising slowly she gathered her clothes and pulled them back on, as Yami no Bakura had. Once they were both dressed, Anzu sprayed the room in deodorant, covering the smell. Coughing slightly from the chemicals, she regarded the man of the shadows that was standing watching her in equal measure.

"I knew there some part of you that was not as innocent as you made it out to be, and now I have it." He said into the silence.

"What do you mean?"

"I used you, Anzu Mazaki. I found out that you are just as corruptible as the rest of us."

"What- I don't understand…"

"You gave into me, Anzu Mazaki, _me_ that which you and your friends despised. You slept with me, your closest friend's greatest enemy."

"You… _you tricked me!_"

"Yes I did," he laughed. Loud and dark, it crawled up her skin and settled around her neck where she could still feel his kisses. "You have had my skin on you, all of you. Let me hold you; let me touch in the most intimate way. I have seen every part of you. You are tainted now. _How will you ever live with yourself?_"

"Oh- oh, god." She began to sob and fell down, the deodorant can falling out of her hand with a clatter and rolled away from her. "But no one knows it but us… no one…" she looked up to find him staring down at her. Not a hair out of place, his clothes looked fine, whilst she was a mess. He leant over, cupping her face and kissed her once more, not at all surprised that she let him. She brought her hands up to shoulders, holding him tightly, raising her upper body to him.

"Not yet, but they will, they will. Give me time." He pulled away, slipping out of Anzu's grasp. She held her self in the air for a moment, half way between standing, but as his heat faded she crumpled down again.

As Yami no Bakura walked out, he stopped and picked up the little black book, skimming through its pages. Small, black and simple, it caught his attention as it first had. It was not a diary as he had hoped, but something much more powerful. A Pandora's Box to Anzu Mazaki. But he had shut it before hope had escaped. He tossed it back behind him, not caring where it landed and kept walking.

--

after..day


	6. Stained Glass

**title: **Stained Glass  
**pairing:** Anzu x Yami Bakura  
**summary:** "The pain in your eyes..." he kissed the side of her trembling lips "...it makes you truly beautiful."  
**rating:** M  
**notes:** I like obsessed Bakura, he's so... silly  
**standard disclaimer applies**

**--**

"**People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within."** - Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

* * *

Her eyes were glazed as he approached her, her lips parted so he could just see her tip of her teeth. She was dressed in a fine white gown, layers of silk and lace, as if spun by spiders. She sat on a backless white wicker, completely natural. Natural, like the gardens around her, which instead of outweighing her beauty, it complimented her, and she, in turn, seemed but a form of them. It was the scene made from the minds of uncorrupted children and angels.

Which was why Bakura loved it so and had trapped her within it. Not the scene so much, for nature could never be caught, instead her caught her and through fear had brought about this constructed beauty. She was beyond compare, and he, like a moth to a flame, was pulled to her. A moth to a flame. She simply vexed him.

He was terribly, terribly vexed.

Coming closer, he plucked a flower from the garden, a pure white carnation. With a tenderness he rarely possessed, he placed it in her earth coloured hair. She closed her sky eyes and dropped her head, her hair moving the flower loose so it fell into her lap and open palm. On reflex she closed her fingers around it. Still looking down at the line of green and white that was the hem of her dress against the grass, she raised her hand to give him back the flower. Trembling flowers revealed the flower to him and he dutifully replaced the flower in her hair. She moved again and the flower fell once more.

He grew angry and he crushed the flower when she returned it again. She cringed, only infuriating him more. Sneering, he grabbed her jaw and twisted her face up. Her breath became scarred as her heart and her eyes screwed shut to block out his rage.

"Open your eyes."

She did so very slowly, not looking at him but seemed to shut herself down and away from his pain. His grip lessened as a single tear ran down her cheek, cutting across her smooth her face. He almost smiled.

"The pain in your eyes..." he kissed the side of her trembling lips "...it makes you truly beautiful."

* * *

afterahardday


	7. Stop Your Crying Now

**title: **Stop Your Crying Now  
**pairing:** Anzu x Yami Bakura  
**summary:** She never got a feeling of completion from his kisses, never.  
**rating:** M  
**notes:** Anzu's perpective~ Consumed and trying to forget it.  
**standard disclaimer applies**

**--**

**Can't**

She never got a feeling of completion from his kisses, never.

_Don'tleavemealoneagain._

Instead she would be so over run with him burning against her lips, hot as hell and completely irreplaceable. No blanket could give the instant heat that washed over her skin like he did. No heater could a room warm like he could. But it was addictive and she always wanted more.

_IthurtsIthurtsIthurts._

Every time she would come crawling back to him, he would smirk and she would whimper, drugged off his heroine taste. Her breath irregular and his was brushing against her cheek, her neck, her stomach.

**Feel**

_Don'tstoptouchingme._

She would grip his hair tight in her fingers, bite her lip so no sound would give her away, because they were always in a room next to someone. She knew he did it because he liked the idea that she could get caught, he liked to see how well she could control herself. She also knew he preferred it when she would scream. But he sacrificed one for the other.

_Ohgod._

His pale slender fingers that were not truly his would trace the lines of her body, then find a soft spot and claw at it, so she would cringe. Her pain was his pleasure.

_Don'tleavemealoneagain._

If she did get caught she knew there would be nothing to excuse what they were doing because he was always so quick to make her to loose her blouse, her skirt, whilst the most he would these days loose was nothing more than his shirt. There was never much time for much more than fevered kissing.

_Don'tstoptouchingme..._

_OhGod_

**Anything**

_OhGod_

She would cry sometimes, from the pain he practiced on her body. _OhGod._ Other times, whenever so often he took more from her, she would scream much to his enjoyment, _OhGod_ drinking of her skin.

And how she wanted of him.

She wanted him fucking much, she barely even thought anymore.

_OhGod._

**Anymore.**

_IthurtsIthurtsIthurts._

--

afterahardday


	8. Possessive Corruptions

**title: **Possessive Corruptions  
**pairing:** Anzu x Yami Bakura  
**summary:** A mimic of a lovers hand holding. Knuckles white and nails digging in.  
**rating:** M  
**notes:** I really like this one, its dark as I prefer.  
**standard disclaimer applies**

--

_We're one mistake from being together,_

_So lets not ask why its not right._

--

"Bakura! W-what are you doing?"

She shoved his hands back, but he threaded his fingers through hers, pushing her hands down. A mimic of a lovers hand holding. Knuckles white and nails digging in.

"You said…"

"I said what?" she turned her head away, his lower body was pressed against hers, stopping any chance of kicking him.

"… anything. You said you'd do _anything_."

"To be your _friend_ Baku--"

He pressed his nose into her neck and let out a long breath, she felt it pulse down her shirt and her blood.

"It doesn't have to _mean_ anything…a sign of friendship?" his lips brushed her skin with his words.

"I'm not that kind of girl…!" That scrape of teeth caused her to want to twist.

"If its only me, it doesn't make you any kind of girl but…"

She tried not to gasp, truly she did, when he bit under her ear.

"But what?"

"But _mine_,"

"Bakura! Stop it!" Goddamn it, she was meant to sound stronger than that. She was trying, she was _trying_.

"No. I never let go of what's mine. _Mine_."

The teeth bit her harder and felt her knees buckle slightly. His fingers on her fingers did not relax. He'd never let go.

"I just want _friendship_ Bakura, I don't want, I don't want…"

"I've lived so long, such millennia, but _you_ are more beautiful, and I can hold you, like I could not the sun setting over the desert. _You _are possesable, are touchable, so infinitely _mortal_, so frail and of all the beauties, _so mine_. To protect and to have."

He let go of one hand and she immediately tried to use it to push him away. The hand came to his shoulder, but couldn't find the strength to push, instead her fingers twisted in his shirt and she saw across her knuckles his fingernail marks. His now free hand came to her cheek and touched along her cheek bone, then down, to her chin then neck, her collar bone then the edge of her shirt. He brushed his fingers along its neck line then it settled on the back of her head, he dipped his head forward.

"So mortal, you don't understand its fragility at all."

When he kissed her, all thoughts went, every ounce of fight fled, her fingers gripped harder around his and she could not get close enough.

"Live, and let me be your breath."

She fell back, hitting his bed, and he unveiled in a glory she had never felt, his fingers painted invisible patterns across her skin.

She had never understood breathing like she did then.

His breath was hers and he was her and he was in her, not just physically, he was in her soul, and he shuddered, ripping something out of her that was more incredible than anything before. But now that it was gone she new she would only ever again if he ran his fingers through her soul again.

"B-Bakura!"

She stood in front of the mirror, naked but not caring, marks all over her from his 'praise'. He came behind her, fingers wrapping around her waist. She could see his smirk over her shoulder.

"Mine. Forever mine. All mine."

--

afterahardday


End file.
